From Yoga Mats to Saddles: Adventures at a Sacred Valley Retreat
Here at Samadhi in the Sacred Valley, morning arrives gently. Around 5:15 a.m. the sky begins to lighten and a few ambitious birds start warming up like they’re testing microphones. By 6:00 they are in full concert and my internal alarm clock has officially gone off. It’s a lovely thing to step outside our bungalow at that hour. Honeysuckle and jasmine are blooming everywhere and the smell hits you the second you open the door. Everything here feels lush — aggressively lush — like the plants are competing with each other to see who can grow the most.
By this point we had already reached hump day of the retreat and the morning started with Ali leading our yoga practice. Ali is a good friend of mine and I take her classes all the time. We trained with the same teachers, I know her cues, I know her flow, and I’ve practiced this sequence before, so I walked in feeling pretty confident. But I could tell right away she slowed things down and trimmed a few pieces out — which I appreciated deeply. There are moments in yoga where your body says “yes, we are strong and capable,” and moments where it says “we both know this is about to end badly.” Ali seemed interested in preserving our dignity. After class we wandered over to breakfast where, once again, the kitchen produced something incredible. Honestly, going home after this retreat and having to cook my own meals is going to feel like a real lifestyle downgrade.
Later that morning the retreat had arranged a sound healing bath. We gathered in the Moon Room where Gonzalo was sitting in the center of the circular space surrounded by instruments — gongs, bowls, drums, chimes. He explained he would be playing his “friends,” though he wasn’t sure which friends might show up. Some sounds, he said, could stir emotions or affect the nervous system in different ways, so if anything uncomfortable came up we shouldn’t be surprised. Our job was simple: lie on our backs, get comfortable, put on an eye mask, and listen. The sounds were incredible. At one point it felt like we were in a rainforest with birds calling. Then suddenly we were by the ocean with waves and seagulls. Then drums, then guitar. It was pretty hypnotic.
When it ended Gonzalo asked if anything emotional had come up, which is always a slightly dangerous question in a room full of yoga people. But our group seemed far more interested in the mechanics. People started asking how he made the bird sounds, how he made the ocean waves, and then Hans asked very seriously how he made the snoring sound. Because yes — someone had fallen very deeply asleep. I’m not one to judge. I have fallen asleep during meditation myself and woken up to that little puff of air escaping between my lips, so I know it happens. But this was full-on snoring. Gonzalo even walked over and played instruments above the sleeper in what appeared to be an attempt at sonic resuscitation, but it had no effect whatsoever. Later the snorer (who will not be named) happily declared that the sound bath had been their favorite activity of the retreat so far, which honestly made it even funnier.
We had a free afternoon after that. I tried to catch up on writing, Barb finished her book, and we opened a bottle of wine because this is a retreat, not fat camp.
Earlier in the week I had mentioned to Grace that I really enjoyed her teaching style but didn’t find it quite as challenging as the flows we normally do with Ali. Well, Thursday morning I noticed things heating up. I walked into the yoga room expecting another lovely morning stretch and about ten minutes in realized this had turned into a lovely morning “oh shit this is hard.” Her flows are different, but they are sneaky hard. By the end of class I felt like I had completed an entire day’s work — unfortunately it was only 9:00 a.m. and we still had a full day ahead of us.
After breakfast we piled back into the van and drove about fifteen minutes to the Pisac Market. The road wound through small towns until we arrived in this charming square filled with stalls and vendors selling textiles, jewelry, and of course anything you could possibly want made of alpaca. Every vendor assured me they would give me a “special price.” Now I love bargaining — I treat it like a sport. The key is to be willing to walk away. I walked away from many things… but I did leave with three pairs of socks and a table runner. We stopped at a cute café on a second-story balcony overlooking the square for a Pisco Sour before wandering back through the market and eventually heading home. It somehow felt like a much shorter ride back. We had another delicious lunch and I was mentally preparing for a quick siesta when it was time to walk next door to the farm for horseback riding.
This activity was optional, which should have been my first clue. Only Barb, Ali, Jonah, Rachel, Kim and I decided this sounded like a good idea. I didn’t really have any nerves about it until we walked up and started standing next to the horses — that’s when the nerves arrived. Miguel, Viviana, and their son run the farm and assured us it would just be a gentle walk. They explained how we would steer with the reins since the horses don’t use bits because that can hurt them. Then Miguel started assigning horses and asking if anyone had experience riding. Of course none of us had real experience. Kim said she had been on a horse five times, this made her an expert in our group. In my mind I thought I had probably been on a horse three times, though one of those times was when I was about fifteen so I’m not sure that still counts.
My horse was named Fuego, a beautiful brown horse with a black mane and tail. Honestly he was the prettiest one so I felt lucky. I scratched his ears and when I stopped scratching them he nudged me — exactly like my French bulldog Freddie does when he wants more attention. Everything seemed fine until Kim’s horse Lakshman started bucking, which upset Ali’s horse Mantra who she was already sitting on. Suddenly everyone was reconsidering whether this had been a good idea. Miguel calmly moved Lakshman aside, got on him himself, and then did a mid-air horse swap so Kim could climb on. Once she was up he said she just needed five minutes to connect with him and keep “whoa-ing” him.
Soon everyone was mounted. Jonah bravely took Apache, the horse we had been told was the most spirited, though it turned out Apache was actually the calmest of the group. Lakshman, however, had leadership ambitions and insisted on walking in front while Kim repeatedly yelled “Whoa! Whoa!” to keep him from pushing Miguel down the trail. Fuego decided we should be up front as well and moved beside Lakshman, who promptly kicked him in the face. That seemed like a clear message that we should not be friends. Miguel and his son eventually stretched a rope between them to keep the horses back like a moving horse barricade. We were also joined by the family’s two dogs, a white fluffy little thing who seemed personally committed to redecorating Ali’s pants with muddy paw prints, and a basset hound who trotted alongside us the entire time like they had been officially assigned to guide the ride. Meanwhile the view of the valley was incredible as we walked toward the river rushing through the canyon. The scenery was beautiful, but the soundtrack of the moment was mostly “Whoa!” and “Do I keep whoa-ing him?”
When we turned to head uphill toward the farm the horses knew we were going home. We were told to lean forward in the saddle, but Lakshman immediately decided to try running up the hill and started bucking again while Kim shouted WHOA WHOA WHOA. Mantra and Apache got upset, Fuego started backing into Tango, and Rachel was telling me to stop but I didn’t actually know how to stop Fuego — I was mostly just along for the ride. I have to give Kim a lot of credit because I would have been off that horse and walking back immediately, but she managed to get Lakshman under control and we eventually made it up the hill. At that point my strategy was simply to keep Fuego calm and as far away from Lakshman as possible. I leaned forward like they told us while pulling on the reins and talking nonstop to my horse like he was a nervous child. Viviana walked up beside us and that’s when I realized the horse did not speak English and probably didn’t understand a word I was saying.
Eventually we made it back to the stable where Fuego calmly walked straight into the stall where we had started and stopped like a perfect gentleman. He really was a very good horse. We walked a little stiffly back to Samadhi and it was absolutely time for a beer.
